


The curtains goes up... The play begins.

by MademoiselledeRomance



Category: The Borgias (2011)
Genre: F/M, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MademoiselledeRomance/pseuds/MademoiselledeRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is midnight.<br/>The hour between yesterday and tomorrow.<br/>The moment between the past and the futur.<br/>They've changed. Everything has changed.<br/>Why ? Perhaps because they are playing a role... Even together, they are not natural.<br/>Let the play begins...<br/>Cesare sees Lucrezia making love with her husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The curtains goes up... The play begins.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [50251sid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/50251sid/gifts).



> A translation of "Le rideau se lève...". in English. I hope you'll enjoy it. I may have made mistakes, I don't speak a perfect English, I'm sorry. Thank you for reading !

It is midnight.

 

Suddenly, Cesare Borgia is thinking about his life.

 

What did he have accomplished?

 

Corruption. Lies. Power.

 

These are the watchwords of his existence.

 

And why ? Why all of this?

 

Once, his father told him : "If Power doesn't serve Love, then it is useless".

 

Rodrigo Borgia was a man without scruples.

 

But everything he did wasn't for him : it was for the family.

 

Because he loves his family, his children, more than anything on Earth.

 

Is it a sin?

  
  


It is midnight.

 

Cesare Borgia is still thinking.

 

Every minute that passes seems to be out of time.

 

And suddenly, he wonders something very absurd.

 

Why do the day begin from midnight, when the night is just full at this hour?

 

Cesare smiles. He feels halfway between yesterday and tomorrow.

 

He feels that this moment is the border of his life.

 

_ Yesterday I was here in the Vatican, Cardinal, serving the Pope. _

 

_ Tomorrow I will be in France, I will be the leader of a powerful army. _

  
  


It is midnight, and Cesare Borgia, for a minute, sailing over the waves of time, wavered between his past and his future. He is writing his own story. He can almost see, in his mind, the great authors writting an epic of Cesare Borgia, in the kind of Alexander's or Caesar's.

  
  


The time has come to turn the page on the past, and to look to the future. 

 

On the Vatican. His father. The Church.

 

Perhaps he should forget all .

  
  


But he knows that anyway ...

 

Wherever he could be, in this life, or in the next ...

 

One person would always be important.

 

She is his half, completing him in every way.

 

She is his end and his beginning.

 

This is called a soulmate.

 

And suddenly the light illuminates his mind clouded by the darkness of midnight.

 

"If Power doesn’t serve Love, then it is useless "

 

And the love he feels for her is above all kinds of power.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It is midnight.

 

Lucrezia Borgia is brushing her hair one last time.

 

She knows she doesn’t have time. The act is imminent.

 

Anger oozes from every pore of her skin.

 

A terrible and uncontrollable rage. The rage of the Borgias.

 

It is midnight.

 

Lucrezia turns.

 

She is seeing all her past in her mind, once again.

 

_ He _ has always been part of her life.

 

And, for a moment she just wants to be again that young and pure Lucrezia Borgia she was once.

  
  


But all in all ...

  
  


She  _ is  _ what she was.

 

This woman snarling is not her.

 

This woman snarling is the one for the public, ‘The Borgia’.

 

Lucrezia is not that woman.

  
  


Suddenly she smiles. She has understood.

 

She remembers, ten years earlier ...

 

_ “Cesare, please, I don’t want to beg the pardon of that horrible priest…” _

 

_ “But, my love, Papa requested it. You know why. You seriously offended your Latin tutor, saying he was "asleep".” _

 

_ “Cesare, he did fall asleep ! I like to translate Virgil, Suetonius, but, please, this priest wants me to translate only the Holy Scriptures! It's so boring! I refuse to apologize in public! Alone with him, I would have accepted, but ... but what a idiot idea to ask an apology before the whole household !” _

 

_ “Lucrezia, my love ... I understand how you feel. It is unfair indeed.” _

 

_ “You would like me, you too, putting my pride aside ?” _

 

_ “Certainly not. A real Borgia does not apologize, nor put his pride aside.” _

 

_ “So what to do, Cesare?” _

 

_ “Do you like theatre, Lucrezia?”  _

 

_ She remained stunned. Why the hell did he ask that? _

 

_ “Uh, yes, I do ... Sophocles, and also …” _

 

_ “Well, have you ever watched a play?” _

 

_ “Yes, Cesare, twice. We watched Antigone.” _

 

_ “Well, do you think that the person who plays Creon does really want to kill Antigone’s interpreter ?” _

 

_ “They are actors, Cesare!” _

 

_ “Can’t you do the same?” he smiled. _

 

_ Lucrezia frowned, then suddenly lighted up. Of course ! _

 

_ “Life is a perpetual representation, my love”, he whispered. “Everything is theatre. Everything is only pretense. Yes, my love, it is a sad statement to make, but everything is false, everything is lie and illusion. Everyone knows his role by heart. This is both a comedy, and a ballet. A comedy, because it's the hypocrisy that governs lives. A ballet, because each of these lives is intertwined with another, because each of these intrigues is knotted and unknotted.” _

 

‘It is midnight.

 

Lucrezia Borgia is ready.

 

She looks perfect.

 

She knows her role by heart.

 

She is not what she seems to be.

 

She smiles, thinking to her brother.

 

She will pretend.

 

He is right.

 

All is basically a representation.

 

Lucrezia takes her beautiful shoes, and looks at the room one last time. All these objects have  _ seen _ her life. Sorrows, joys, anger. Tiny parts of her everyday-life ... However, she could not imagine living without it.

 

She goes out.

 

Suddenly, she thinks again about her brother's words.

 

"Everything is wrong, everything is lie and illusion ..."

 

She ponders, and realizes he's wrong.

 

_ All _ is not a lie,  _ everything _ is not false.

  
  


In the Vatican’s corrupted world...

 

In the bosom of the scandal of the name of Borgia ...

 

Among that masks and hypocritical words ...

 

They are true. Cesare and Lucrezia.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

King Ferdinand of Naples enters the room, followed by Cesare. He is calm and aloof. He has understood all, as the siblings. He is here to watch the play. A representation.

 

But certainly not a farce.

 

The thin veil before the witnesses bothers him a bit.

 

A veil of decency ?

 

No, Lucrezia is a real whore.

 

Then a veil ... To hide what should not be seen ?

 

No, it will not be a farce.

 

Despite the veil, he will ensure that everything is done as he desires

Alfonso enters the room. He is utterly ill-at-ease and seems to hide himself under his robe. He is more than anxious. He should never have ... never have made that vow to St. Agnes. Because of that, he is here, having to consummate his marriage without really knowing how to do, before two witnesses. One is his all-powerful uncle, an expert of these  _ imbroglios _ , the other is Cesare Borgia.

 

And Cesare Borgia, it means… a lot of things.

 

First, Cesare Borgia is... a  _ man _ (a real).

 

_ Secundo _ , it is a  _ dangerous _ man.

 

Finally, it is his brother-in-law. And if you want to say it more clearly, it is the brother of his wife. And… that simple precision marks a important difference.

 

Because Lucrezia loves her brother unconditionally, and Cesare loves her even more.

 

And Alfonso doesn’t manage to really understand their relationship, their bond. He feels excluded when the siblings are together.

 

And Alfonso is afraid, because ... she is Lucrezia.

She is not a virgin, an innocent wife.

 

She is ... Lucrezia Borgia.

 

During her life, she had a lover, she had a child. She knows what to do.

 

Yet they are the same age.

 

And also she is  _ too _ beautiful.

 

And he will, surely, feel overwhelmed by her beauty, by her aura of  _ femme fatale _ .

 

Here he is, therefore, ready despite himself to shame.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She appears at the top of the stairs. Cesare looks up and sees her. He can’t move, he remains as a statue. She is so…  _ perfect _ . What a treasure.

 

Suddenly he feels simpleton. He would like to giggle. To be ten years old once more. He would like to stop all of this. What are they about to do ? This is not a "perversion" as Lucrezia said. It is an aberration ...

 

He wants to reach her up, to hold her in his arms, forgetting all those people around them, seeing only her. He wants to take her to her bed. He wants to again become her brother, he wants them to be what they were before the fate overwhelms them.

 

He closes his eyes. Deep down, he feels guilty because he had so much pleasure that night... Much more than in the arms of any other woman. Much more than in the arms of the most experienced courtesan ever.

 

Surely because, despite her appearance of mature and seductive women, Lucrezia kept her innocence in the act of love. She knew quite nothing. In whose arms did she find pleasure? Perhaps a few times in those of the groom. "And yet”, Cesare thinks, “his touch must have  been very rustic ...".

 

He remembers the joy she felt, almost the joy of a child. He also have been a kind of initiator for her that night… 

 

And…

 

And it was... something else, with  _ her _ . He didn’t have sex with an ordinary woman, he had with her. And it was different, because ... because even if he has seen her body for the first time, he felt like he knew it by heart already.

 

He had felt such a magic. It was not banal, no ... it was so  _ different _ . He had almost felt God enveloping them. Their union was sacred. It was strange, how it seemed to be  _ natural _ . As if in all times, they were both destined to be there together.

 

He understands, suddenly. They’ve never been different of what they are today. Before, they had not crossed the  _ line _ . But deep down, he feels that it was not so different before. He remembers as they played in the garden of their mother, how they used to fall, together, on the green grass, close to the fountain. How he lay on her. How she touched him. How he caressed her cheeks, her neck, kissed her face. They have always loved to touch each other  .

All that bad stuff is there between us because of him, it’s his fault if they are coming up against a wall . If he had accepted their feelings since the first day ... everything would have been normal and clear.

 

But now… But now Lucrezia knew the delights of pleasure, and would never be contented with their chaste caresses.

 

He looks at her going down the stairs, observing her husband, avoiding looking at the other side of the curtain. Her golden hair worns tight around her head. Cesare loves her hair. He remembers how it brushed his face, lightly, during the...

 

Yet he would like her to her to have her pale curls she had long time ago, her moon-colored hair. It made her look so young and fragile.

Cesare hears Ferdinand chewing noises. He hears but does not listen to it. This scum is not there. Alfonso either. He is alone with Lucrezia. He tries to convince himself of that. Nothing is important for him but her.

 

His fists itch him. His body is vibrant. He has never felt so much frustrated, so helpless.

 

He remembers.

 

When he announced her...

 

Their words.

 

And that cry… that screaming.

 

Her confession.

 

This confession he tried to stifle brutally pressing his mouth on hers.

 

She should not have said that.

 

"I love you !"

 

He suddenly realizes that, contrary to what he believed, their relationship has changed slightly.

 

He felt love for Lucrezia.

 

He still feels love for her. But now he also feels passion.

 

Passion. From the Latin  _ Patior _ . Suffer .

  
  


Love and suffer.

 

Well, it sounds like ... love and hate.

 

Odi et amo.

 

Why does he remember all of that now?

 

Patior et amo.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She walks into the dark light of the candles. Every step she takes is a step towards the future. What future? The immediate future is not very pleasant. She wants to go back.

She knows that after  _ that _ , everything will have changed, one way or another. That room first. That room, the stage of so much important events in her life. And here she is: this night, she is playing her most difficult play, her most painful representation, her most arduous partition. Lucrezia Borgia's entrance. Spectators, hold your breath.

 

She walks toward him. Everything takes place quickly. Yet she feels that every step lasts a century. Every time she takes one, she see again in her mind the images of the past: her first wedding, the second ... all ceremonies took place here, marked her existence.

 

And each time,  _ he _ was there. Here, at her side.

 

_ “I placed you here as you see. At my side”. _

 

_ “Yes I saw that”. _

 

_ “Are you?” _

 

_ “Of… of course, at your side. Whatever happens. France, or Spain, or Napes, they can crumble to dust all, I don’t care. As long as you …” _

 

She suddenly remembers her first marriage. She barely remembers Sforza’s face, she wants to forget him. All she remembers is  _ his _ face, so harmonious, so regular. She remembers their complicity, his tenderness, his smile. Their innocence.

 

"Perhaps I could teach him new words. Like  _ "tendresse", "amore", "sprezzatura" _ ... ".

 

She thinks back to those words. How naive they are. A small chuckle escapes almost her throat. But deep down she knows that all that words were destined to  _ him _ . 

 

She remembers the purity, but also the strength of their relationship. An unbreakable bond, a magical thread, but also a rooted and unchanging love. She understands, suddenly why they’ve changed; they play roles. Lucrezia became "Lucrezia Borgia, the harsh and fatal woman" and Cesare became "Cesare Borgia, the invincible and cruel warrior". With the others, family and relatives, they have always playeds their roles, but when they were only together they have never played any. Never tried to  _ play _ . 

And actually they didn’t become aware that they were starting to play. Together they started playing too. They must stop it. They must be  _ them  _ again.

 

She thinks to a detail, a tiny detail ... A few days earlier. When she was waiting, naked, on the bed. He had knocked.

 

“Lucrezia?”

 

“Is that my brother?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The brother who loves me?”

 

“The same”.

 

_ Everything _ is in that "the same". She repeats these two words, they are so beautiful. Yes, they have weathered many storms and thunderstorms, tragedies and plots.

 

And yet ...

 

Yet they are the same.

 

Like the first day.

 

Despite all of what happened.

 

They are the same for each other.

 

Suddenly she hears. A little strange noise that comes from the mouth of Ferdinand. Oh, shr forgot, yes, he is here. She had almost forgotten him. She turns her head suddenly. Brutal back to reality.

 

She avoids  _ his _ eyes.

 

"Let's put an end to it!"

 

The thought arose in her mind. Deep cry of her heart.  _ Let's put an end to it _ . She wants Alfonso to be a true man, making her his own, here, like that now. She will feel nothing but she can work with it, she can play. Is she not a real actress, a  _ professional _ , after all?

 

She feels the presence of the maidservant behind her, ready to help her to take off her long shirt water green gauze.  _ Oh, enough _ . She can do that by herself.  _ Let's put an end to it ! _

 

Without brutality, but with a firm gesture, she pushes the maidservant who bows and leaves.

Alfonso doesn’t look at her.

 

He eludes. As always.

 

But it's better this way. She does not know if she really can confront his anxious look of frightened puppy.

 

She walks quickly toward him.

 

" _ Ferdinand wants the show? He will have! _ "

She cannot blame Alfonso.

 

She remembers the pure young girl she has been once. An innocent virgin.

 

Why would he not be afraid, after all? She must forgive him.

 

Gently, she lightly stroked his face. Finally he turns his eyes toward her. She probe them.

 

He whispers, panicked: "Dear God ..."

 

They back together to the bed.

 

She realizes that everything starts to be out of her control.  _ He does not want to look at her _ .  _ She doesn’t want to look at him. _ The only one that matters isthe one behinf her back.

 

All she wants is to look at him. Diving into his eyes. Once again. Find in them all the courage she needs.

 

She would like to see Alfonso in the same way. But it will never be the same with a husband.

 

She knows that  _ he _ is looking at her. She is aware of it.

 

"It was in his eyes ... He can’t hide things for me..."

 

Then she whispers to him, and for him alone:

 

"My eyes ... Remember."

 

She cannot help to turn slightly as she slid her dress. It is for  _ him _ that she is undressing, She would like to give herself to him.

 

She is naked as in the first day.

 

And the first day ...

 

_ He  _ was already here.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The long dress slipped down her diaphanous body. He feels dazzled again. She is so beautiful. She is so perfect. The sensations of the previous night breaking over him like a tidal wave. He is almost trembling , so it's intense. But he have to keep calm.

 

And then he hears him, the other, this decay, vermin, that scoundrel, that wretch, proclaiming: "Oh ... Beautiful!".

The rage is bubbling inside him. He wants to go and cover her. This man does not deserve to contemplate that perfect body. She is his, and his only.

 

And even beyond that sense of ownership ... He is her big brother. Lucrezia, his flower, his dove, his treasure, the dearest person to his heart. She is there, naked before him. She strives to show great confidence, but he knows that deep down she trembles. She's so young. She is not even twenty.

 

But her age, her soul, who she is ... She has forgotten. She plays.

 

She gently slide the long shirt of her husband’s shoulders. This fool does nothing. He lets her do. Wake up ! Do something ! Be a man !

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lucrezia looks at Alfonso. They are naked, face to face. She tries to see nothing but him, with a look full of desire… a desire she does not feel.

 

But he does not look at her. Wasted effort. He seems obsessed by the presence of Ferdinand. Suddenly he advances towards the bed. Lucrezia follows him. Perhaps he wants to get rid of that quickly.

 

"It's beautiful," she thought, a little mocking. "Such an irony, we are in the Vatican, right next to the Pope, the representative of God on Earth ... And we are Adam and Eve, the first sinners ..."

When she turned, she could see the terrible look of Cesare. There is a murderous rage in his dark eyes. But she guesses it.

 

She settles somehow in the mattress. Alfonso places his body above hers, awkwardly, with a little silly grin. She places her hands on his cheeks, trying to kiss him. They are not going to... now ...?

 

Apparently so. The young husband does not really know how to do.

 

Resigned, she opens her thighs.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

This idiot doesn’t know how to do. What a shame. Lucrezia is beneath him. Cesare can barely see her. He imagines her beautiful face. She must find it so unpleasant. And that dork, instead of making even fast tribute to her beauty, does nothing ... Absolutely nothing.

 

He remembers, suddenly, without really knowing why, a distant memory.

 

The first marriage. With this rabble of Sforza.

 

Lucrezia had fallen asleep on the table of the feast. Around her, people screamed. The actress on stage was topless, and the others applauded.

 

Cesare had taken Lucrezia in his arms to carry her to her room. She had let him do. With her big brother, she always felt safe. She had buried her face in Cesare's neck.

 

He had carry her. He had felt so proud to have her in him arms, and wanted her to stay there forever.

 

The room was lined with gold drapes. When Lucrezia would awake there, would not she be afraid?

 

He had gently installed her on the bed, and remained close to her. He had contemplated her, in her sleep. She was so graceful, even asleep.

 

The feeling of love that had erupted in his heart had been so violent. He loved her so much. He would have given his life for her.

 

He sighed at her.

 

She was so pure.

 

And the next day…

 

He didn’t want to think about it.

 

When she would not be anymore.

 

Cesare had continued to look at her. His little sister, virgin and innocent. He wished she could have the most beautiful of the “first nights”, even though he knew she was anyway too young.

 

He kissed her warm cheek, stroked her beautiful hair. A little bit ill-at-ease, he could not help watching her breasts rise and down according to her breathing. To imagine ... The hands of this junk ... Of this ... On her ... On her soft skin ...

 

He put his hand on hers, so small. What to do ?

 

He had done nothing. He was gone. He had left her. And he would never forgive himself. She had suffered so much!

 

He knew that during “their night”, when she came to see him, she wanted to erase the memory of her first wedding night. But what was done was done.

 

And now she was with that unbearable child...

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He enters her hardly . She grimaces slightly. It hurts.She doesn’t even feel the beginning of the feeling of pleasure… is just the opposite. It hurts. She wants to cry.

 

Alfonso turns once again his head towards Ferdinand.What an idiot! Why does he escape? She closes her eyes, opens them again.

 

"Hey, hey, stay with me. Stay with me…"

 

"Okay, okay ..." he whispers, sobs in his voice.

 

But Lucrezia does not hear. She has closed her beautiful eyes, and think about  _ him _ .

 

"Just me ... Just me ... Just me."

 

She slightly raises her face, eyes still closed. It seems she wants to smell his perfume. Suddenly she opens her eyes. It's not  _ him _ above her... it is Alfonso, still whining.

 

As he starts moving inside her, she looks at him. She feels nothing. Who is he, reall? He is almost a stranger to her. They barely know each other.

 

He gets excited increasingly. She sighs. He is gross and awkward, not as sweet as she hoped. But did she  really hope for, after all?

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She seems to suffer. It breaks his heart. Lucrezia, the light of his days ...She is entirely under Alfonso, and has turned her head to his side. Her eyes are closed.

 

Cesare, slowly, slowly leans forward. His eyes seem to burn.  _ To feel closer to her. _

 

Her delicate face is contracting. Her brows are frowing. She has the expression of a little girl. He loves it.

 

He looks at her, full of rage, but also full of tenderness and love. Both as brother and lover.

 

And suddenly…

 

She opens her eyes.

 

And all starts again. All continue where they left off .  . The thread interrupted just a moment is recreated. They drown in the eyes of each other. She looks at him with an air of resignation. But she looks so young, when he observes her.

 

There is a lump in his throat. With his eyes, he tells her how much he is sorry.

 

She looks at him. He looks at her. They look at each other.

 

She is in him, he is in her.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She doesn’t want to play anymore. She cannot. She thought she was strong enough, she has realized that she is not. She wants  _ him _ to come get her, carrying her in his arms, take her to bed and stroking her hair. As before.

 

She wants her big brother. She is scared. With all her heart she calls him. "Come to save me."

 

But suddenly, she doesn’t feel alone anymore.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Cesare fixes her intensively. She looks so fragile and anxious. He understand she needs encouragement, she wants him to tells her that what she does is good.

 

She blows. He is still looking at her. "C'mon, c'mon, I know you can do it ...", he whispers. 

"I love you". Every paillette of her look says it. _ I love you. _

 

He is no longer the lover. Just her big brother, as before. What he has never stopped to be, he realizes finally. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She is smiling, now. She remembers. "You remember? When it was me observing you. "

 

So many hours spent observing him having sex with ladies and whores. He knew she was here.

 

And today ... Does he feel what she felt?

 

She smiles when the reminds that memory.

  
  


And then she is lost in his eyes, forgetting everything.

 

It is  _ him _ who is in her.

 

_ His  _ hands are on her body.

 

_ His _ breath walking over hers.

 

She doesn’t imagine it, she  _ feels _ it.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He understands that she starts to get pleasure.

 

She must be thinking that it is him who makes love to her. Then he decides to enter her game.

Nothing else matters except them. Their eyes are the strongest bond they have. They know each straw, each shade from the other’s. She sees again in her mind his hands on her body the other night. He sees again her lips swollen by dint of being kissed.

 

He trembles, she is trembling too. They barely hear the laughter of Ferdinand. But they don’t care. Nothing exists. The Pope, Rome, Italy, worldwide. Nothing but the infinite reflections, changing waves of their eyes ...

 

Their passion is beyond everything. Time, space. Beyond themselves.

 

Love.

 

" _ Comme un fil,  _

_ Entre l’autre et l’un. _

_ Invisible, il pose ses liens. _

_ Dans les méandres des inconscients,  _

_ Il se promène, impunément _ ".

 

He half-opened his mouth. She does the same, reaching the pinnacle of pleasure. A groan of happiness comes out of her mouth. She lets herself fall, overwhelmed with sensations.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tomorrow, Cesare will leave for France to finally become  _ Cesare Borgia _ .

 

Tomorrow Lucrezia will take the road to Naples, leaving the name of the Borgias in Rome.

 

Yesterday, Cesare had only Lucrezia, Lucrezia had only Cesare.

 

Today…

 

What is  _ today _ ?

 

It's midnight.

 

Yesterday's tomorrow,

 

Tomorrow is today,

 

Today is yesterday.

 

It is a quarter past twelve.

**Author's Note:**

> I've added to this story a verse of the song "Et l'on y peut rien", by Jean-Jacques Goldman, a really famous French singer. Here it is the translation of that verse (that verse is all about the definition of "love") :
> 
> "Like a thread,  
> Between each other.  
> Invisible, he puts his bonds.  
> In the meanders of unconscious,  
> He walks with impunity. "


End file.
